


If and When

by one_windiga



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_windiga/pseuds/one_windiga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it was hard having the face of a dead man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If and When

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tellshannon815](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tellshannon815).



Sometimes it was hard having the face of a dead man.

Not that there weren't benefits, sometimes, his gran chief among them. Even if this world was utter shit, even if the sky was roaring flame and the oceans were boiling, he might still have stayed, just for her. He'd fixed the carpet on the stairs, and whenever he was back in England, he'd drop by for tea. He'd put up with the cross words about his disappearances just to see her smile when he handed her their cups.

But she still called him Ricky. The whole world did. It seemed like such a little thing, just a little spelling difference, what did it matter? It took him three months to finally turn his head when someone called or not stutter over his own 'name.' That just wouldn't have done.

The only one that still called him Mickey, the only one that had any reason to believe there was a reason he still asked stupid questions about things everyone else knew, was Jake. It was almost a shock; after hearing the rest of the world calling him Ricky all the time, he almost started to forget, up until Jake said his name. Jake never, not ever, called him Ricky. Mickey never asked him to.

After all, it worked, what they had. Whatever that was. They'd never actually sat down and said it, just sort of fallen into it and never gotten back out. Overcome with adrenaline thrumming through their veins after blowing up a cyberman factory in the heart of Paris, Mickey had just grabbed him and pulled him in to a crushing kiss. Jake barely needed a moment before he was tugging Mickey closer, sliding his hands up underneath Mickey's sweater, and that was that. They were happy. They had to be.

And when they were on the road too long, driving through endless headlights and rain spatters, talking about their adventures, if sometimes Jake trailed off into silence when he realized he was recounting a story where Ricky was the protagonist, not Mickey, then they just moved on. And when Mickey was cleaning up the laundry, if he found a photo in Jake's pockets that he had never been in, then he put it back. And when they laid in bed at night, if Jake gazed at him a little mournfully when he thought Mickey was already asleep, well. This was never his to begin with.


End file.
